


Do I Wanna Know?

by striderous



Series: A Certain Romance [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angsty bass playing, Arctic Monkeys lmao, I blame Zac, M/M, Memories, man I suck at this, not really tho, songfic I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/striderous/pseuds/striderous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is suffering from the guilt of having killed Tord, so he imagines if none of it ever happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Wanna Know?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiiko/gifts).



> Zac (princeofmints on tumblr, PrincePip here) 'inspired' me to write this and lmao I guess it's technically my first fic. Anyways, the song is Do I Wanna Know? by AM. Disregard any errors. It's 4 am and I wrote this on impulse.

Ever since Tom moved into his new apartment, he had started going out less, and freaking the fuck out more. 

It started happening shortly after the incident with Tord. Matt and Edd seemed like they were doing fine, albeit a little guilty over presumably killing their former friend. Tom seemingly felt nothing. As far as he was concerned, the little fucker had it coming. Of course, that didn't stop him from growing paranoid. He was in constant fear of one of Tord's groupies coming after him for revenge. To protect himself, he locked himself in his apartment and busied himself with menial tasks. Sweeping up his 'belongings' that Edd had brought from the old house, helping Matt polish his collection of mirrors, and fixing Susan. 

All of these things gave him time to think. Honestly, he couldn't tell if that was good or bad, considering he mainly thought of the whole Tord issue. Sometimes, he smiled as he thought of blowing the Norski out of the sky. Other times, usually when his body was flooded with alcohol, he felt the guilt and fear crash down on him like a wave. Over time, he found the latter happening more often than not. It was as if bottling it all up only made the emotions find their way out in more violent ways. On these nights, he found himself leaning against his bed with his knees tucked to his chest, tears streaming down his face, and a bottle of Smirnoff by his side. He liked to think that he could get rid of the thoughts and feelings by drowning his already intoxicated brain in even more alcohol.

It never worked.

Tom was lucky that within a few weeks Edd noticed his remorseless facade start to crumble. Tom wasn't sure if it was the bags under his eyes or the constant hangovers that clued the other in, but he was grateful to get a second opinion either way.

"Why don't you get a hobby to distract yourself?" Had been Edd's suggestion. "That's what I did." He smiled, gesturing the attempt at knitting that was currently in his hands. "I'll... I'll get better." He chuckled softly. Tom only sighed.

"Listen, Edd. I know you're trying to help, but I don't think that will work. Besides, I already have a hobby." He jerked his thumb towards his bass, which was still sitting on the table, in the midst of being fixed. Edd glanced at it and rolled his eyes. 

"Tom, I think Susan is ready for the dump. It's been through so much already..." He stood up to examine the instrument on the table. "I mean, unless you can fix it again, that is." He looked up to Tom again. "You think you can?"

Tom immediately stood up from his place on the couch, a determined frown on his face. "Of course i can! Poor Susan isn't _that_ bad off." He picked Susan up off of the table, smiling at the fact that she was almost completely fixed. His smile immediately fell when the body of the instrument fell away from the neck, falling to the floor with a _CRASH_ that caused Edd to wince. "Fuck. Okay, Edd. I'm going to put Susan back together. Again. I'm gonna need some more Smirnoff and a shit ton of glue." He paused, thinking it over a bit. "Oh, and grab some bandages just in case." He pulled his wallet out and tossed it to Edd. "Go."

The green clad man smiled, then walked to the door. "Does this mean you're listening to me and taking your mind off of the whole Tord incident?" He looked at Tom expectantly. 

"For now. But only because Susan needs me." 

\--

Edd returned within an hour, this time with a plastic bag and a very enthusiastic Matt.

"Tom!" Matt ran up to where Tom was currently seated on the couch. "Edd told that your bass is still wrecked! Is it true? Can I help put it back together?" Tom raised an eyebrow and gestured to the dining room table where the bass was.

"Yeah, she's still broken. And no, you can't help. I'll do this myself." He took the bag from Edd, ignoring Matt's obvious pout.

"Okay, fine." Matt sighed, then looked up, his expression changing to one of curiosity. "Oh, Edd also said you were feeling bad about killing Tord. Is that right?" Both Tom and Edd froze, one in embarrassment and one in horror. Matt's ability to say the worst possible things during casual conversation never ceased to amaze them.

"Matt! What the hell? I said _not_ to mention it! That didn't even have anything to do with what we were talking about!" Edd groaned, watching as Tom's eyeless sockets widened, seemingly staring at nothing in particular. Matt seemed to panic, apologizing repeatedly and frowning.

"Tom I am so sorry! I just wanted to know how he was feeling! Tom... I didn't mean that _you_ killed Tord!" The ginger stumbled over words in an attempt to apologize, his word choice making Edd face palm. "I just-"

"It's fine." Tom assured, but his voice sounded hollow. "I know I killed him. I fired the harpoon."

"Oh, Tom..." Edd shook his head slowly, his voice sounding almost motherly as he attempted to comfort the eyeless man. "That's not-"

"It's fine. I don't care. I just... Is it weird that I kind of miss him sometimes?" Edd raised an eyebrow, but Tom continued. "Not that I regret what I did... He deserved it. But I feel like I shouldn't have just killed him like that." He paused, chuckling darkly. "Of course, this is probably just the guilt and alcohol talking."

Matt and Edd glanced at each other, both at a loss for words. 

"Tom..." Matt began, but couldn't think of anything to say. They all stared at each other for a quiet moment before Tom finally decided to break the silence.

"Well, thank you for getting the supplies, Edd. I guess I'll put Susan back together. If I can, that is. Bandages and glue can only work so many times. You guys can go. Thanks for the... Conversation."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Edd's face voiced his concern, but Tom could tell he was trying to be nonchalant about it. Tom sighed loudly like a moody teenager.

"Jeez, Edd. Just because I have _one_ chick flick moment doesn't mean I'm a baby who can't handle my emotions. Besides, I'll just be working on my bass." He stepped forward, herding Matt and Edd to the door. "It'll take my mind off of it. Nothing bad could happen."

\--

About three hours later, something bad was in the process of happening. Tom was sitting on the kitchen floor, tears streaming down his face. He had already finished fixing Susan, but downed a bottle and a half of Smirnoff in the process. He didn't even know exactly why he was crying, but he couldn't find it in himself to care anyway. It might have had something to do with the picture of his friends hanging on the wall, or maybe something sad on the TV. What he did know was that he couldn't stop rocking back and forth, mumbling 'Sorry... I'm so sorry...' under his breath repeatedly. He tried to get the tears to stop flowing, but he just couldn't. Instead, he just focused on evening his breathing, scolding himself for being such an emotional wreck as he did so. 

Once he had calmed down a bit, he shakily stood up. He sighed, more out of annoyance than sadness. These little 'attacks' were becoming more and more frequent. Not that he'd tell anyone, of course. He knew that soon all of the terrible things he was feeling would pass. Things get better, right? That's what people say, at least.

He took a deep breath, then tried to think about what had caused him to have a mini-breakdown™. He _wanted_ to think that it was just the stress he'd been putting on his body lately, what with the alcohol and lack of sleep. He _wanted_ to think that it was the eerie sensation of being watched that he'd been feeling since the incident. He _wanted_ to think that it could have been any little thing from a long list of problems that had surfaced after the incident.

What he _didn't want_ to think was that he had been thinking of Tord again.

That's what usually brought the attacks on. Thinking about him. The way that he was dead, and it was all Tom's fault. The guilt had finally built up so that it was more than he could bare. Sometimes, he could fend it off by saying that he was doing the world a favor by getting rid of the little communist gremlin. But his mind usually countered that with 'No one deserves to die. Not even Tord.' One thing would lead to another, and he'd end up crying again. It was a dumb cycle, and he hated it. But it allowed him to think back and look past his rivalry and hatred for Tord. He toyed with the idea that they could have been friends, had he tried harder.

Sometimes he thought about more than that.

Like how small Tord was. How he had always poked fun at Tom, until the eyeless male grew to be taller than him. Then he poked even _more_ fun at him to make up for the height difference. He had always looked like he was blushing, and the spikes of his hair only added to the devilish look. It was cute. Tom found himself chuckling at the memories, and soon enough, the guilt was replaced with regret.

He wondered if things would have turned out the same, had he befriended Tord. Had he actually tried-

Tom shook his head, frowning slightly. Although what he was feeling was better than the original guilt, he still didn't like it. It made him feel even more empty, if that was possible. He looked around the kitchen before his eyes settled on the table. His newly 'fixed' bass was there, waiting to be tested. He picked it up and carried it to his room, then plugged it into the amp.

"Okay... Let's see." He played a few chords and tuned it a bit, nodding in approval when they sounded decent. He played a part of some random song he remembered, although he was a bit rusty. He smirked at his handiwork and looked up, immediately frowning when his eyes landed on a group picture of him and his friends. Including Tord. He shuddered as the feeling of being watched swept over him. The short male in the picture seemed to be staring directly at him. He got up and carefully flipped the picture so that it was facing the wall, then returned to where he was sitting.

The feeling didn't go away, but he tried to ignore it, instead letting his mind wander to something else while he lazily strummed out some chords. His mind, the dick it was, immediately went to Tord. He wonders if anyone found his body. Did he had a proper burial? If he did, did anybody show up? Did anyone besides Tom himself actually miss him?

While he was thinking, his hands continued moving across the worn bass, just like his mind kept moving across thoughts of Tord and remorse. He found himself humming along to the rhythm as he played it, noting how familiar it sounded. It felt oddly nostalgic, and with it came memories of a man in red. The feeling continued to swell along with the music, and his lips parted to say a single name.

As he was playing Tom took the time to say the name few more times, even louder than before. He also took the time to think about how stupid he must look, chanting his enemy's name while playing the intro to a song over and over again. It took him a few minutes to actually find the words to the song in that fucked up head of his, but when he remembered them, he started the beginning of the song again and started singing along softly and humming when he couldn't remember the words.

_...Have you got color in your cheeks?_  
Do you ever get that feelin' that you can't shift the tide...  
...Hmmm  
Ah, there's some aces up your sleeve  
Have you no idea that you're in deep  
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week  
How many secrets can you keep? 

He hadn't noticed it, but he had started crying again as he sang, tears rolling down from his empty eyes, and falling into the cracks on his guitar.

_Do I wanna know...?_  
If this feeling flows both ways  
Sad to see you go...  
Was sorta hoping that you'd stay... 

Without even realizing it, Tom closed his eyes, getting lost in the song and his own thoughts. He imagined what it would be like if he and Tord had never fought... If Tord had never left. If he had never... Died. He would have liked Tord, he decided. No fighting. No pranking. No secrets. If that was how it had happened, Tom might have even considered dating him.

_Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?_  
'Cause I always do.  
Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new...  
Now I've thought it through... 

By the time he was near the end of the song, the front of Tom's bass was wet, and he had imagined a whole world where no one had fought. No one had left. No one had _died._ It was such a sappy chick flick moment that he almost cringed. But instead, he finished the song, a deep frown on his face. "Fuck, that was cheesy... I need to stop drinking so much."

A small noise caught Tom's attention, and he looked up to see Matt and Edd standing in his bedroom door, smiling awkwardly. He face palmed after realizing they had heard the whole thing. He had been so caught up in the song that he hadn't noticed them standing there. But then again, he hadn't noticed a lot of things. The fact that his bass was slightly out of tune. The picture of him an his friends had fallen down. Or the blushing figure outside his window.

Nobody else seemed to notice those things either.

**Author's Note:**

> Lmao fuckin R.I.P. this sucks and I fell asleep while writing it. So, just take it.  
> As you may have noticed, this is part of a series. Which means there's going to be a second part. Eventually. Yay. I guess.  
> And a special thanks to Zac, who is really inspiring and sick as frick.


End file.
